


Love Is Blind

by plisetskees



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Dorks, M/M, Teacher Arthur, blind francis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plisetskees/pseuds/plisetskees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is an art teacher who's in desperate need of an assistant teacher. Francis, an art school student and aspiring teacher, gets the job. (Blind!AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is Blind

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr user rusfra made a post about a blind art teacher AU, and I obviously love art teacher AUs of any kind. I fell in love with it and decided I had to write it! I'm sorry, I have no experience with blind people or actual art ._.

It was a regular morning before class, right after the year had started, and Arthur was at his desk, grading work from his freshman class. His boss had told him the day before that he had finally hired an assistant for his art class. Arthur was ecstatic; he was the only art teacher in a school of almost 1,500 children, all of whom needed at least 2 art classes to graduate. It was stressful, and Arthur was glad to see that his months of complaining finally got him help.

Arthur’s door opened about 30 minutes before class started, and he looked up to see a tall, blond man standing at his door. “Ah, hello, is this the art room?” he called, and he didn’t look at Arthur, which Arthur found strange. He decided to ignore it, and greeted the man.

“You’re my teacher’s assistant, I assume?” Arthur asked, putting his work down. The man smiled. “Yes, my name is Francis Bonnefoy. I’m an art student in the city.” The man, Francis, said softly, his voice dripping with a French accent. Though he had looked in Arthur’s general direction, he still wasn’t making eye contact. Arthur blamed it on his being French, and walked to him. “Well it’s about damn time they got me an assistant. I’m Arthur Kirkland.” Francis extended his hand to Arthur, and Arthur shook it.

“So, I’m guessing you’re French? What brings you to America?” Arthur asked, noticing that Francis hadn’t moved from the door. “College,” Francis replied, and slowly started to walk towards a table. “I see. That’s what brought me here as well.” Arthur noted. He had moved from London to New York City when he was 18 to go to a prestigious art school. He had had dreams of being an artist, and when they fell through, he stayed to teach in America instead of going back home to his dysfunctional family.   

“I’m right grateful you’re here, Francis. I really needed an assistant. I’m sure you don’t mind grading art, and doing instruction from time to time? I assume you took the job because you want to teach art, so you’ll need to be used to this sort of thing.” Arthur said, and began setting up for his first class of the day. “No, I have no problems with any of that. I’ll do anything you ask of me, to the best of my abilities, anyways.” Francis said, and leaned tentatively on the table. “Brilliant. In fact, if you wanted to jump headfirst into this, you’re welcome to do today’s instruction with my first period while I work on grading.” Arthur suggested, and Francis smiled. “I’d love to, Arthur.”

“Great. They’re my advanced class, so there are only a few students. Mostly seniors, working on their portfolios for college. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Do you know much about oil painting?” Arthur asked. “Oil painting is my specialty. I’ve been called a modern day Monet.” Francis said, and laughed slightly, his laugh distinctly French. Arthur shook off a bit of annoyance (he was English, of course he had a bit of prejudice against the French,) and went to where he had stored his paints.

“Well, if you’ll come over here, I’ll show you what you’ll be doing for them, then.” Arthur said, and he was confused when Francis started to laugh. “What, did I say something funny?” Arthur asked with a confused look. “Oh, you just said that you were going to _show_ me.” Francis laughed. “And what’s so funny about that? What, is it a French thing?” Arthur asked, not understanding anything at all. Francis stopped laughing. Arthur was worried he had offended him with his French remark, and opened his mouth to try and backpedal after it was silent for a moment, but Francis spoke first.

“You mean your boss did not tell you about me?” He asked. “Tell me what?” Arthur asked. There was another long pause, and Francis smiled. “I’m blind, Arthur.” He said softly, and before Arthur could stop himself, he blurted out, “Well how the bloody hell do you expect to be an art teacher?”

He quickly realized how offensive that was, and tried to make it better. “I’m sorry, that was-” Arthur started, but Francis cut him off. “No, it’s fine. I get that question all the time.” He said, and thought for a moment. “I’ve only been blind for a few years, so I can still remember things from when I could see quite vividly. I’m also not completely blind yet, so I can see some color and shaping, though I normally close my eyes when I paint. Beethoven made his most beautiful music after he went deaf, and I will make my most beautiful art after I’ve gone blind.”

Arthur looked at Francis, wide-eyed. “That’s amazing, Francis. If I look away from my art for even a half-second, I’ll mess up.” He said, and Francis smiled. “Thank you. It’s taken me a lot of practice since I’ve lost my eyesight to get back to the level of talent I am now.” He said. Arthur gathered his supplies, and brought them over to the table where Francis was. “Not to pry, but, how did you go blind?” Arthur asked as he started setting up for his class.

“I have a disease called Retinitis Pigmentosa. I have abnormalities in the photoreceptors of my eyes, which caused my sight to deteriorate as I’ve aged. I had perfect vision up until I was about 10, then it just got worse and worse. I was legally blind by 15, and I’m just barely a step up from total blindness right now. My doctors say I’ll go totally blind at some point in the next few years, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” Francis said. “You’re awful calm about this. I’d be losing my shit about now if my doctor told me I’d go blind in a few years.” Arthur said, sitting next to Francis.

“It’s something I’ve been living with for nearly 14 years. I’ve made my peace with it. As long as I can still make beautiful art when it goes, I say good riddance to my sight. I’d rather be totally blind than deal with the fuzzy world I live in now anyways,” Francis laughed. Arthur managed a smile, and put a piece of canvas in front of Francis. “Since you’re my assistant art teacher now, I’d love to see how well your skills are. Paint something for me.” Arthur suggested, and Francis smiled. “Of course.”

It was silent for a while, save for Francis asking paint was black, and Arthur watched Francis paint. He closed his eyes, and let his hand fall in long strokes on the canvas. He knitted his eyebrows in concentration, and would bite at his lips every so often. Arthur was surprised when he found himself thinking he was handsome, but he didn’t deny it to himself. Francis _was_ handsome.

As the bell rang and students slowly started to pour into class, Francis handed his canvas to Arthur. Arthur finally got a good look at it; Francis had drawn a rose. It was little more than line art, Francis hadn’t had time to do anything more, but when Arthur realized he had painted this all _with his eyes shut,_ his jaw dropped a little. “A rose for mon cher,” Francis smiled, and Arthur gave a hesitant smile back before he realized Francis couldn’t see it. “You’re a brilliant artist, Francis.” Arthur said softly, and put the canvas at his desk.

Arthur knew then that his year with Francis would be a very unique one.


End file.
